Summer Loving: Sleepless in St Cricket
by Amadea
Summary: When Theodore Nott, sharp-tongued insomniac, finds himself wrangled into a night at the opera with Daphne Greengrass' entire family, it's nothing short of magical. TN/DG. Complete.


**Author's Note: **This fic was written in response to Addicted-to-Sugar-Quills' "Summer Loving" challenge. The prompt was to write a Theodore/Daphne story that included the following: floral, jammy dodgers, and silence.

**Summer Loving: Sleepless in St. Cricket**

**(a story in three parts)**

**Part I: Florals**

Almost everyone—except the willfully stupid—knew the trick of tickling the pear in the portrait by the kitchens. For insomniacs like Theodore Nott, having all-access to the kitchens was one of the first crucial lessons at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Theodore crooked a finger and tickled the pear's chinny-chin. The frame of the portrait let out a great sigh, easing away from the wall just enough that he slipped behind it, disappearing into the kitchens.

He twisted to watch over his shoulder and make sure the portrait fell securely back into place, but when he turned to face forward, he drew up short. A pale-faced girl crouched behind one of the kitchen counters, watching him with big, dark eyes. It took him a moment to recognize her as Daphne Greengrass. She was less pretty and more plain than her younger sister Astoria, but Theodore also had the impression she was smarter. As he watched, she sank lower and lower behind the counter, until he could only see her eyes and the top of her hair, knotted like a bird's nest.

"Hello," Theodore ventured, and she froze.

"Hi." Her voice was small. Theodore started forward, but she squawked and clutched the edge of the countertop. "Don't come 'round!" she warned.

Theodore cocked his head at her, but held both hands up placatingly.

"I don't want you to see my nightgown," she said by way of explanation. Theodore felt a leer and a lewd comment coming on, but Daphne was shaking her head. "Don't even. Just tell me what you want and I'll slide it across the counter to you."

"I'm not going to do that."

"Trust me; you don't want to see this. It used to be my great Grandmother's."

Theodore's lip curled. "Why in Merlin's name would you be wearing that?" he said rudely. Daphne turned her head away sharply, but he didn't seem to notice. "And anyway, I'm just here for some tea. I don't care about your pyjamas. But you look really foolish crouching there; might as well show me and have done with it."

Daphne's lower lip wobbled but she lifted her chin haughtily. "If you're rude about it, I'll hex you," she warned.

Theodore leered again. "Fine. I like a woman who's good with a wand."

"_Fine._" Daphne straightened, her full height revealing the nightgown.

Theodore winced. "That's Godawful."

The nightgown was a horrible brown floral pattern that hung to the floor. Stiff ruffled lace circled the wrist cuffs and the high collar. To top it all off, it had puff shoulders.

"Shut up," Daphne groused. "I told you not to be rude."

"You can't expect anything else when you go out in something like that."

"She passed away a few weeks ago, all right?" she snapped. "We were close."

"Doesn't mean you have to wear it. That's a bit weird, isn't it?"

Daphne glared at him, her fine features accusing.

"What I meant was, I'm sorry for your loss," Theodore amended. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he added, "I'm making tea. If you want some."

After a long moment, Daphne nodded. She watched him find and fill the kettle before saying, "You couldn't sleep?"

Theodore shook his head, setting the kettle on the stove.

"Me either." Daphne hoisted herself onto the counter to sit. "I kept thinking about having a jammy dodger. It was _all _I could think about."

"Did you get one?"

Daphne shook her head sadly. "No. I couldn't find a single one, and I can't reach the taller cupboards anyway."

"You could've used your wand," Theodore pointed out.

"I left it in my room."

"I thought you said you were going to hex me."

"It was an empty threat."

"Well." Theodore regarded her a moment before turning toward the cupboards, reaching up to open one on the far left. "They're up here, should you ever need to know for future reference." He brought down a little tin of the jammy dodgers and slid them across the counter toward Daphne. Something in her expression made her look stricken, but the kettle started whistling just then and Theodore preoccupied himself with that. By the time he'd turned back around, she had composed herself and had opened the tin of biscuits.

"Any plans for the summer?" Daphne asked. "It's only a couple days away."

Theodore dunked his teabag in and out of the hot water in his mug. "No. You?"

Daphne shrugged. "I guess we're going to the opera. Astoria thinks she wants to be a singer, so…."

"That sounds terrible." Theodore's tone was mild.

"We have an extra ticket." Daphne picked at the jammy dodger in her hand. Little white crumbs flecked the countertop. "If you wanted to come."

"I just said it sounds terrible."

"I know."

"We don't know one another all that well," Theodore pointed out, taking a sip from his tea.

"Maybe I'm trying to get to know you better," Daphne said. "It was just an idea."

"Aren't you dating whatshisname, anyway? Fester?"

"Chester. And no. That's why we have an extra ticket." Daphne looked down.

Theodore wrinkled his nose. "It's been a bad semester, then, I suppose."

"It's not been great."

After a long moment of silence, Theodore said, "How long is an opera usually?"

"About three hours—"

Theodore slopped hot tea down the front of his shirt. "For fuck's _sake_ that's a long time." And then, before he could rethink it, he said, "Yeah, I'll go."

Daphne pushed the jammy dodger into her mouth and snapped the lid back on the tin. She grinned at him with a mouth full of cookie and said, "Then we'll be in touch," spraying crumbs everywhere.

"Jesus, Greengrass," Theodore said, swatting at his shirtfront. Daphne just opened her mouth wider to show him the mushed up jammy dodger and didn't close it until he shook his head laughing.

::0::

The last few days of school passed seamlessly from one to the next. Daphne had said they'd be in touch, but so far Theodore hadn't heard a word from her—much less seen her at all—and so he was left to think about what an odd girl she was. He was surprised she hadn't stood out to him more before. When suddenly it was the _last _day of school and Theodore still had yet to hear from her, he resolved to track her down himself. He figured if he was going to spend upward of three silent hours next to her in an opera house while rotund women sang at the top of their lungs in a language he didn't understand, they ought to lay some ground rules first.

Despite his resolve, Theodore found it very difficult to actually talk to her. Even though they always had class together in the afternoon, he didn't think she was even there until he turned around halfway through and saw her sitting all the way in the back, at the desk nearest the door. Then, when he went to talk to her at the end, she had already slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall. Then, that night when everyone returned to the common room after supper, Pansy informed him that Daphne had already gone to bed. With a roll of his eyes, Theodore disappeared into his own dorm.

At this point, Theodore didn't see much point changing into his pyjamas because he so rarely slept. All the same, he'd kept doing it the past few months because it seemed awkward not to perform that small ritual when all the other boys did. So, he loosened his tie and slung it over the top of his trunk, unbuttoned each button on his shirt, kicked off his trousers, and tugged on his pyjamas. He stretched out on top of his comforter, where he proceeded to lay awake until the next morning.

The next morning when the other boys started groaning and rolling out of their beds, Theodore took that as his cue and sat up, swung his legs off the bed, and got dressed along with them. He packed the last of his belongings into his trunk and locked it, realizing he was ready before most of the other boys.

Beside him, Draco Malfoy was haphazardly throwing robes and ties and books into his trunk, pressing down on the mess every so often in order to fit more in. When he caught Theodore watching him, he curled a lip. "_What_?"

"Nothing," Theodore said pleasantly. "Just observing your method." He tapped a finger to his head. "Taking notes."

"Oh, shuddup," Draco grumbled. "My mum usually does this."

"I didn't catch that."

"I _said, _my mum usually does this." Draco said it loudly enough that several of the other boys stopped what they were doing to look at him. Theodore grinned and ducked when Draco swatted at him.

::0::

It wasn't until after they had gotten on the Hogwarts Express that Theodore saw the back of Daphne's head—her ashy brown hair—amongst the cluster of students waiting to move down the hallway of the train. "Greengrass!" he called, but she didn't seem to hear him. "_Daphne."_ This time, she looked over her shoulder—the wrong way—but then spotted him. "Save me a seat, yeah?" he called. She nodded, turning her back again to move down the line.

Somehow, Daphne had managed to snag an empty compartment at the end of the train, and when Theodore got there, he sat down heavily across from her, shoving his bag beneath the seat with a kick of his foot.

"Hi," Daphne said. She tucked a fine strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Good. You look tired."

"I don't feel tired." That wasn't entirely true. Sometimes Theodore felt very tired.

"Maybe something's missing from your life," Daphne said mildly. "And it keeps you up."

Theodore looked irritated by this. "I was trying to find you all day yesterday. It was impossible," he said instead of answering. Then, "Were you avoiding me?"

"Oh. No, I was avoiding—"

"Fester?"

"Chester."

"Listen, about this opera—"

"You're still coming, aren't you?" Daphne sat up straighter.

Theodore narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Yes."

She relaxed. "Good."

"I just—I want to be clear that it's not a date."

Daphne's face went up in flames faster than the goblet of fire in Fourth year. "Of course not. I hope you didn't think that was my intention."

Theodore shrugged. "I just wanted to be clear."

"Have you been to an opera before?" she wanted to know.

"Once. Don't worry, I won't embarrass you." He sounded offended.

"I wasn't worried about that."

He looked out the window, but then he said, "Is there anything I should know about you or your family before meeting them?"

"Are you worried about making a good impression?" Daphne teased, but Theodore didn't look amused.

"Always."

They sat in silence for a long moment, but then Daphne said, "Well, we have two cats. I have a nine year old brother named Byron. And we're not Death Eaters."

This brought Theodore's head around fast. "And I _am_?"

Daphne looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I don't know, are you?"

"Even if I am one, you think I'd make _small talk_ about it during a night at the opera?"

"I don't know," Daphne admitted. He caught her eyeing his left arm so he pulled sharply on his sleeve and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well now I'm not going to tell you either way," he said peevishly.

"I don't want to fight," Daphne pleaded. "Let's just start over. Hi, how are you?"

"Good. You?" Theodore said tightly.

"Good."

"Good." Theodore worked his jaw.

"This might not be the time, but my parents said to tell you you're invited to our house for a few days before the opera."

Theodore slid down in his seat, eyes shut tight. Needless to say, they rode in the silence the rest of the way.

**PART II: Jammy Dodgers**

Theodore's summer started off normally enough, but a few days in, he received an owl from Daphne's parents formally inviting him to join them for a few days before the opera. He was surprised to find himself accepting, but their letter was so gracious—and he was so bored—it would've been rude to say no. And, for some reason, some small part of him was interested in having Daphne grate him the wrong way again.

It turned out the Greengrasses lived out in the countryside of St. Cricket, along a dirt road that ran as far as the eye could see. Theodore shaded his eyes, tilting his head back to survey their home. It was nice enough, but…he didn't know _what_ he'd been expecting. He supposed he'd been expecting a manor like his family or the Malfoys had. Instead, their home was a simple white two-story with a colorful pot of flowers by the door.

He mounted the steps and hesitated only a moment before knocking on the door, rocking back on his heels while he waited. Soon after, the door swung inward and he was surprised to find a grinning Astoria Greengrass on the other side. She had a fresh flower tucked behind her ear and squealed when she saw him. "You're here! And you brought gifts!"

"Hello," he said, looking over her shoulder and into the house when he saw Daphne darting out of sight up the stairs. "I take it your sister's been looking forward to this," he said dryly.

"She's just being Daphne." Astoria rolled her eyes. "Come in." And then, hollering over her shoulder, "_MUM! HE BROUGHT FLOWERS!"_

Astoria led him into the kitchen where they found Mrs. Greengrass washing dishes. She wiped her hands off on a towel and turned to welcome Theodore.

"Oh, look at these beautiful flowers! I'll just pop them right in a vase. You didn't have to, Theodore. What a nice gesture."

"Err, it was nothing." Theodore said. "Thanks for having me." He lifted the other gift he'd brought, a round tin full of jammy dodgers. "I actually also brought these for your family. I know Daphne likes them."

Astoria swooned against the counter before pushing off to bellow up the stairs, "DAPHNE! GET DOWN HERE!"

A few moments later, Daphne crept into the kitchen. Her face looked freshly scrubbed and her hair was wet, but she'd plaited it into a braid that left damp spots on her shoulder. "Sorry I didn't answer the door, I was…my hair was only half done."

"You're forgetting that I've already seen you at your worst in your grandmother's nightdress," Theodore pointed out, not noticing that Astoria's mouth fell open when he said this.

"Err—" Daphne cut an embarrassed glance at her mother—"great grandmother."

"Anyway. I brought you these." He thrust the tin toward her.

"Oh…wow. Thanks," Daphne said uncertainly, taking them. After a moment, she slid them onto the counter, poking the tin with one finger. "Let me show you where you can put your things."

Theodore followed her up the stairs. She turned over her shoulder, saying, "I hope you don't mind sleeping in Byron's room. Don't worry," she added quickly, "he's sleeping in my parents' room while you're here."

"I really don't—" he stopped. He'd been about to say, _I really don't need a room _because after all, he really didn't _sleep_, but then thought maybe she didn't need to know the extent of his insomnia. "I really don't mind either way," he finished instead.

Byron's room was typical of a young boy, though Theodore himself had never had a room like it: there were toys spilling out of a wooden chest, and a train track took up a large portion of the free carpet space. The train hooted and a puff of steam escaped the top. Several of the dresser drawers jutted out a few inches and he could see rumpled stacks of clothes inside.

"I hope this is all right," Daphne said uncertainly.

"It's fine. It's great. I like it," Theodore said truthfully.

"Okay. Well, if there's anything you need…you'd let me know, right?"

"Sure," Theodore lied.

Daphne looked relieved. "Good, good." She smoothed the front of her shirt and looked around the room again. She smiled brightly. "Right! Well, like I said…just let me know if there's anything…anything at all—" but she broke off suddenly, shaking her head in embarrassment. Her tone was suddenly much more real. "I'm so sorry if this is awkward. We don't have visitors very often, and I never expected you to say yes."

"Oh, boy, that's…honest."

Daphne covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry; I should just tell you now that everything with me is awkward."

"Pull yourself together, Greengrass," Theodore said. "This hasn't been half so bad as you think."

Daphne took a deep breath, shaking her hands out by her side. "Good. Great. Let's just get through this. But," she said, "if at any point you want to get out of this, I give you full license to leave."

"What?"

"It's just that I didn't realize until you got here how anxious I would be for you to have a good time. So if you're not having a good time, just leave and we can please never speak of it again."

Theodore scrubbed his hands through his hair and then down his face. "Are you just saying everything that's going through your mind right now?"

"Yes. No. Like half of what's going through my mind. I'm going to let you settle in," Daphne said, maneuvering past him and out the door. As she edged the door shut, she said, "I'm not usually this neurotic. Just so you know. It's just that I got this owl from Chester earlier and—" she snapped the door shut, cutting herself off.

Theodore sank onto the bed and numbly watched the train travel around and around its little track.

::0::

Dinner that evening went well. Astoria chattered about a litany of things, from the doxy that had gotten into the girls' dorm during the school year to the dress she was going to buy the next day for the opera. When Theodore stole a glance at Daphne, she seemed relieved to have her sister take the burden of conversation off.

Byron, too, was very excited to have a visitor in the house. He couldn't stop asking questions about Hogwarts, saying more than once that he couldn't wait for his letter in two years. "Do you play Quidditch?" he wanted to know, sipping from his water glass without once taking his eyes off of Theodore. "What position do you play?"

Theodore wiped his mouth with his napkin. "You know what, I actually don't play."

Byron seemed disappointed. "Oh." He pushed his potatoes around his plate. "Why not?" Everyone at the table seemed interested in hearing the answer.

"I never tried out for the team. I just…I actually like racing brooms better."

"You _race?_" Byron was beyond impressed.

Mr. Greengrass brought his hand down on the table, clattering the silverware. "Well, I'll be cursed," he beamed, looking from Theodore to his wife and back again. "_I _used to race when I was at university."

"I'm sure you were much better at it than I am," Theodore said. "It's actually not allowed at Hogwarts, so I haven't had much practice lately."

"You should take the day tomorrow and try the obstacle course," Mr. Greengrass said. "Our town has a spiffy one in the park. That is, unless you wanted to go dress shopping with the girls."

"Err," Theodore glanced at Daphne—who seemed to be looking everywhere but at him—and Byron, who seemed to be looking _only _at him. Byron's expression said he was trying to communicate something of utmost importance to Theodore. "Would you like to go to the obstacle course with me tomorrow, Byron?" he ventured.

Byron's responding grin threatened to split his face in half. "Can I, Poppa?"

"It's fine with me if Theodore wants to take you." Mr. Greengrass shot Theodore a questioning look.

"Of course," he said, winking at Byron. "Maybe you can teach me some tricks."

Byron nearly lifted off his seat he was so pleased.

::0::

Late the next morning, Mrs. Greengrass took Astoria and Daphne into the city for dress shopping, while Mr. Greengrass explained that he had to pop into town and take care of a few things at the broom shop he left Byron and Theodore to go to the obstacle course.

Theodore shaded his eyes: the obstacle course was impressive. It ran around the entire outside of the St. Cricket park. It wove in and out of the line of trees, involved a series of suspended hoops, and at least one set of swinging cables that riders would have to speed through.

Theodore let out a low whistle. "Have you been out here before, Byron?"

Bryon tugged at the zipper of his little windbreaker, bringing it all the way up under his chin. "A few times." He hoisted his little training broom into the air and swung a leg over. His feet dangled a few inches off the ground.

"Shall we have a go, then?"

Byron grinned impishly and leaned into his broom, taking off. Theodore waited a moment before following. Training brooms weren't meant to go fast, and they capped out at a medium speed, but Theodore could tell that Byron would be a good flyer once he was older.

Theodore took a moment to take in the rest of the park. The center of the park was given over to a Quidditch field, hoops and everything, where a gaggle of Third Years were practicing. Further off, there was also a set of swings and a sandbox for the younger community members. Finally, Theodore leaned into his own broom and took off like a shot. It felt good to have the wind sting his face again, so sharp that tears came to his eyes only to be wicked off his cheek. His broom was well-used enough that it was developing a bit of warp and pull, but it was still as fast as ever. Theodore had given Byron enough of a head start that he was still a few hundred feet ahead, ducking through the hoops like a little pro. Even from behind, though, Theodore could tell it took a lot of concentration for him: his little shoulders were tense, and the grip on his broom was tight.

They made it all the way around the obstacle loop once and, panting, Byron pleaded, "Again?"

"Sure," Theodore agreed, and watched Byron jet off again.

This time, when they were halfway around the loop, just coming up on the swinging cables, Theodore caught an odd movement from the corner of his eye—

He bit off a curse: it was a hurtling bludger, spun awry from the kids' Quidditch game. It was heading right for Byron. "_Byron!"_ he hollered, but his words didn't carry. He had no interest in finding out what would happen if Byron got hit by it, and leaned in sharply on his broom. The ground blurred beneath him and the wind whistled in his ears.

He caught up to Byron just in time to intercept the bludger. It smashed into his face, snapping his head back. The force of it nearly knocked him out, the light dimming momentarily. His broom had swung out, but he managed to lower it to the ground with a stagger. "Oh, _fuck." _His shirt was streaked with blood, and when he licked his lips, he realized it was rivering from his nose and out of his mouth.

Byron was about to have a panic, but Theodore hastily—and painfully—scrubbed his sleeve across his face, though it had little effect. "It's okay, Byron. Come on, we have to go back to the house." A wave of nausea swept over him and he shook his head to clear it. "Get on my broom and hold on tight."

Wordlessly, Byron did as he was told, but his clutch on Theodore's waist was very tight. The ride back to the house felt interminably long, and more than once Theodore felt such a profoundly deep throb of pain in his face that he felt in danger of passing out. All the same, they made it to the house where he dropped the broom on the porch and stumbled into the house, trying his best—and failing—to keep blood from getting everywhere. Byron was a nervous wreck beside him.

"I don't want you to worry, Byron, but I'll need you to call someone if I pass out, okay?" Theodore staggered into the kitchen, looking for gauze or ice or a towel or _anything, _really. The room swung and Theodore clutched at the counter, his arm sweeping a basket of teas and several spice jars to the floor with a clatter.

"_Oh my God. _What _happened?_"

He swung his head around to see Daphne in the doorway of the kitchen. He was still clutching the counter, and she hurried to him.

"Oh, that's a lot of blood," she noted queasily, almost dancing back. She grabbed a kitchen towel off the countertop and leaned in. Her face was pale.

Theodore's fingers slipped from the lip of the counter and he passed out cold.

::0::

When he woke, Daphne was crouched over him with a blood-soaked towel and a look of concern.

Theodore lifted a hand experimentally to his face. It was still tender, but was no longer slick with blood. He squinted around the room and then at her, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows. "You're home early."

She looked relieved that he was talking. "I found a dress I liked early and came back. I didn't want you to feel like you were babysitting. How _do_ you feel?"

Theodore wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, glancing at the takeaway. "Grateful."

"Me, too," Daphne said. "Byron told me what happened. Thank you." She touched his arm lightly. "I think I should take you to the local clinic."

Theodore started to shake his head, but the movement hurt. "I'm all right," he said instead.

"Just to make sure your nose isn't broken. Or that you don't have a concussion."

"I really don't want to go," Theodore said uncomfortably.

Daphne nodded sympathetically. "I know. But _I_ really don't want you to die of a brain aneurism."

In the end, Daphne won the argument. The clinic said that he was fine, but he could expect to see bruising around the eyes and experience tenderness in the general vicinity of his entire body—but especially his face.

On their way out of the clinic, Daphne said, "Do you want to go by the creek that runs through town? Unless you're ready to go back."

"Show me the creek," Theodore said. "But can we get ice cream first?"

Daphne laughed and nodded.

Down by the creek, Daphne splashed her feet in the water and happily ate her ice cream while Theodore lay down beside her, arm crooked behind his head. They were in the deep shade by the creek, and the breeze blew sweet and cool there. They didn't say much, just ate their treat in comfortable silence and listened to the burble of the water, but more than once Daphne caught Theodore watching her. When the breeze grew chilly, Daphne stood and brushed the back of her skirt off.

"Shall we go?" she said, offering him a hand up. He gripped her hand in his, his fingertips brushing the sensitive underside of her wrist when she helped him to his feet. Neither of them looked at the other.

::0::

That night, Theodore slipped out the front door into the muggy night air. Out in the country, the stars were bright overhead, almost dizzying when he stared up at them too long. He sank onto the porch steps, resting his elbows on his knees. A spinning top that Daphne and Astoria had been playing with earlier lay off to the side, and he picked it up, dropping it into a spin. He watched absently as it twirled, traveling like a tiny ballerina until it tilted and fell. He spun it again with a twist of his wrist. It took him a moment to realize that someone else had come out on the porch. Twisting over his shoulder, he saw Daphne silhouetted in the doorway.

"Oh," he said, trapping the top beneath his hand.

"You don't sleep much, do you?" Daphne said, moving to sit beside him on the stairs. She'd pulled her hair into another short plait over her shoulder, but the fine hairs around her face had escaped and were floating wispily in the night breeze.

Theodore thought about shrugging it off, or even lying, but instead he just said, "Almost never."

"That's hard." Daphne rested her chin on her fist and looked out across the hard-packed dirt of the road. It looked almost white in the moonlight. "Do you want one?" Daphne said suddenly, and Theodore saw that she was holding out a jammy dodger.

"Sure." Theodore took the biscuit from her palm.

"Do you suppose that Fudge has these at the Ministry for whenever he wants? Tins and tins of them?" Daphne broke hers in half and ate part.

"Probably," Theodore said, popping his in his mouth. "It's best to eat them a whole pack at a time, anyway." Daphne laughed, but a moment later, Theodore said seriously, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What would you do if it turned out I was a Death Eater?"

Daphne didn't look at him right away, but when she did her expression was sad. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Theodore shook his head almost imperceptibly and looked down at his hands. He heard Daphne exhale shakily.

"I guess it would depend," she finally said.

"On what?"

"On if I knew you better." She glanced at him and away again. "Like…if I found out right now that you're already a Death Eater, we would still go to the opera and everything."

"But?" Theodore prompted when she didn't continue.

Daphne gripped her knees. "But we wouldn't be friends afterward."

Theodore nodded again, watching a small cluster of fireflies flicker above the damp lawn. He could feel Daphne glancing at him, so he lifted his head. "Is that why you and Fester broke up?"

"Chester. No."

"What did he say? In that letter?"

Daphne covered her face with her hands. "Oh. You remembered me mentioning that." She peeked out from between her fingers before dragging them down her cheeks. She blew out a huff of air. "He was just…he was just, you know, rude about it. It turns out he's not very nice," she laughed uncomfortably.

"Kind of the trademark of a Slytherin," he pointed out, but she didn't answer. A moment later he caught her looking at his left arm. "You're just dying to know, aren't you?"

She looked embarrassed that he'd caught her. "I'm sorry."

Theodore pushed his left sleeve up to his elbow and twisted his arm so the pale underside was exposed. There was no mark. Daphne reached out a finger and stroked the spot, but pulled away once she realized what she'd done. It sent a shiver across Theodore's skin.

"I'm glad," Daphne said, rising to her feet. "I'm glad that you're not one."

Theodore waited until the door shut behind her to lean into his hands, pushing his fingers through his hair, clasping them across the back of his neck. He stayed that way a long time.

**PART III: The Opposite of Silence**

The next night was the night of the opera, and Theodore was in the bathroom, freshly showered and scrubbed, when he went to throw away a tissue and saw a badly crumpled piece of parchment in the trash. He knew it was wrong, but his hand was twitching, and he could see Daphne's name in the top line. Checking to make sure the door was securely locked, he snatched the parchment from the trash and smoothed it open. It was immediately recognizable as a letter, scrawled in a broadly boyish penmanship that could only be Fester's.

_Daphne,_

_ I am sending this letter only to affirm that I have received yours and to reiterate that _we are through._ I told you when we started dating that it wasn't bound to last long, and that time has come. I'm not sure how many times I'll need to say it, but I hope this is the last. I tried to be nice about it the first time through, but since you persist, I'll say it now more bluntly: You have, for far too long, proven yourself incapable of being the girlfriend I need. You have more Hufflepuff than Slytherin in you. You are sadly engrossed in schoolwork, prone to such underwhelming bouts of moping that they are not only annoying but uninteresting, and there was that one time you did not stand up for me when I was arguing with Malfoy and Nott in the common room. I cannot see myself having any future desire to be with you._

_Chester_

Theodore finished the letter quietly, folded it carefully—pressing down on the creases—and set it back in the trash. Matter-of-factly, he continued getting ready: He shaved his jaw, brushed his teeth thoroughly, and combed his hair back. Though he'd done everything he could to look put-together, both his eyes were still circled by dark bruises. All the same, he stepped into his slim-cut tux, tugged on the cuffs, adjusted his tie one last time, and headed downstairs to wait for the others.

He waited on the sofa with Byron, who was also dressed in a tux, although his was slightly too small for him because his little white wrists poked out from the cuffs. Byron kicked his heels against the front of the couch and twiddled his thumbs while Theodore sat rigidly, still thinking about that letter and unknowingly grinding his teeth. It wasn't until he heard footsteps at the top of the stairs that he stopped, looking up. He found himself holding his breath.

Astoria rounded the top of the stairwell. Theodore started breathing again. He'd thought…he didn't know what he thought. Astoria was dressed in a floor-length, pale green dress. Her hair curled softly around her shoulders, and her face was luminescent as she descended the stairs, one hand on the railing. Theodore found himself looking past her, waiting for Daphne.

The front door opened. "Astoria! Dad's ready for you."

Theodore twisted to see Daphne poking her head through the front door. She grinned at him.

"I didn't know you were already downstairs," he said, rising automatically to his feet.

"Dad was taking my picture outside."

"I haven't seen your dress yet," Theodore said.

Daphne ducked her head in embarrassment, but stepped the rest of the way into the house. Her dress was a dusty rose color, off-setting the ashy brown of her hair and the darkness of her eyes. It was floor-length and full-skirted with an off-the-shoulder shawl bodice. Theodore did not know what to do with himself. He put a hand out toward the couch and lowered himself down again, not taking his eyes off her.

"That's a pretty dress." He swallowed. "But it doesn't hold a candle to your grandmother's dressing gown."

"Great grandmother's."

"Right."

::0::

Arriving at the opera house was like stepping into a fairytale. The plaza outside was strung with twinkling golden lights and rosy paper lanterns that swayed in the evening breeze. The large fountain in the center spilled over lavishly, catching and reflecting all the points of light.

Before Theodore could take much more of it in, Daphne seized his arm in a vice-like grip and turned toward him so sharply she almost buried her face in his armpit. _"He's here,_" she hissed, the whites of her eyes showing. Her up-do quaked.

Theodore drew himself up straighter, knowing exactly who she meant. He scanned the crowd.

"Just don't let him see me," she whispered. "Just put your jacket over my face and lead me in."

"You can't be serious," Theodore said, craning to see over people's heads.

"Well, I'm not kidding, so—"

"He's facing the other direction," Theodore said suddenly, having spotted Chester. "If we go now he won't see you." He hooked Daphne's arm through his and started walking at a brisk pace toward the doors of the opera house, but slowed down once they were safely ahead.

"You don't have to avoid him," Theodore said suddenly as they mounted the steps to the doors. "You could tell him exactly what you think of him to his face." His jaw was tight again.

"I think I should just be silent on the issue," Daphne said.

"You should be the _opposite _of silent."

Daphne's hand tightened on his arm momentarily. "I couldn't. You have no idea how paralyzing I find the thought of that. Let's just watch the show."

They found their seats beside the rest of the Greengrasses. The lights went down and the curtains came up. The sets were elaborate and beautiful, and the first singer had a crystal clear soprano, but not long into the first number, Theodore felt Daphne nudge his elbow. He turned to look at her in the darkness. She was holding her hand out, palm up, and in the center was a slightly crumbled jammy dodger. Theodore had to stifle a laugh, but he took the biscuit.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"The only thing purses are good for is smuggling food," she whispered back happily, munching into a second jammy dodger.

A moment later, she leaned in again and whispered, "Can you understand what they're saying?"

Theodore shook his head.

"Well, in this number the woman in red is singing about her love of Nifflers, and how, if she could, she would marry a Niffler—but when the man responds he is berating them, saying they are gold-digging thieves—"

"Are you _serious?" _

"Very," Daphne whispered solemnly. "It's really a metaphor for the man and woman's relationship, you see, and—"

"No." Theodore shook his head. "I see what you're doing, and it's not going to work. I won't be fooled like this, Greengrass. Just because you're pretty doesn't mean you can get away with anything. What's _really _happening is he's a chimney sweep with big dreams of playing Quidditch. He's just come back from a long day at work and _she's _angry because she caught him flying around on his chimney brush like it was a broom—" Theodore broke off because Daphne was staring at him. She quickly looked back at the stage, and for the next fifteen minutes watched so intently he kept stealing glances at her to see if she so much as blinked. When the lights came up for intermission, he saw that she had shredded her program into her lap.

"Oh," she said with dismay, picking up all the little pieces and scraping them into her purse. She laughed awkwardly. "The other thing purses are good for."

"Do you want to go down to the lobby?" Theodore offered. "I was going to get some water."

"Err…okay," she agreed.

Once they had their water, they walked the edges of the lobby, examining the portraits and paintings that hung from the wall. They rounded the corner and Daphne walked smack into someone—

"Oh! I'm—" she froze. Chester and a girl Theodore only vaguely recognized as Ravenclaw stood before them. "Oh, goodness, hi Chester!" Her voice was so bright it was almost strident, and Theodore could see that her face was pale beneath her makeup.

Without a word, Chester made to step around her and continue on his way, as though he intended to leave Daphne standing there smiling stupidly without even the barest of greetings. She looked mortified.

"Chester, don't ignore her," Theodore said dangerously. "She said hello to you."

Chester swiveled back around slowly. His date looked distinctly uncomfortable. His lip curled. "_Hello, _Da—"

But to his surprise, Daphne cut him off, drawing herself up tall and balling her hands at her side. "Fester, not only are you—for all practical purposes—emotionally illiterate, but you are blunderingly cruel and cowardly. Never have I felt such a deep degree of detest for someone worth so little of my time. _You _have proven _yourself _of being incapable of deserving respect, not only from myself, but from the entirety of the human species. _Good night._" Daphne gripped Theodore's hand and pulled, leaving Chester dumbfounded as she strode down the hallway.

"And," Theodore called over his shoulder, "that time she didn't stand up for you in the common room was because you were so embarrassingly _wrong _there was nothing that could be done to save you anyway."

They rounded the corner and Daphne released his hand, slumping against the wall. She was shaking. "I can't believe I said that, I can't believe I said those things. Ohhh." Her voice shook and she put a hand to her cheek. Her face was flushed.

"I thought it was phenomenal that you said those things," Theodore said.

"Ohhh," she groaned again. Her eyes opened suddenly. "Did you read that letter?"

Theodore shrugged.

"You did. You did. Oh boy." Daphne mopped her brow and put a hand to her stomach. "I am feeling all sorts of feelings right now." She blew out a hard puff of air. "This adrenaline is really—wow. I want to kiss you."

"Good," Theodore said, and Daphne launched herself at him. He caught her, staggering into the wall, his hands going to her waist.

Needless to say, they missed the second half of the opera.

::0::

That night, Theodore snuck over to Daphne's room after everyone else had gone to bed and knocked lightly. She answered her door and ushered him inside with a quick glance out into the hallway.

"You're not wearing your great grandmother's nightdress," he whispered. Daphne was wearing a simple grey tank top and floral sleep shorts.

"I know," she whispered back. "It's too suggestive; I didn't want to give you the wrong idea."

Theodore shook his head. "Oh, I really like you."

Daphne grinned and climbed onto her bed. "You're only okay."

Theodore stretched out beside her and grinned, hands behind his head. Daphne leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, and then again full on the lips. Her hair fell forward and tickled his cheek and he laughed pleasantly against her mouth. She lay down beside him, resting her head near the curve of his neck where she could watch his pulse flutter. They stayed that way for a long time, talking until she asked a question that he didn't answer.

"Theodore?" she said, lifting her head. His eyes were closed, his expression vulnerable. His deep, even exhales tickled Daphne's cheek and she rested her head against his shoulder once more.

For the first time in a long time, he was finally sleeping.

THE END.


End file.
